You Never Miss the Water 'Til the Well Runs Dry
by ProcurerFaith
Summary: Repost. Branches Story 04 - Matt's Dad remembers the call every parent dreads receiving and sitting by his son's deathbed, helplessly taking those photographs.


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_**Disclaimer:**I do not own Digimon. All Digimon characters are owned by Toei and A. Hongo and such. I am making no money from this fic. It is a just-for-fun project. The only bit I own is my own characters and the way the words are put together. Lyrics mid-fic are from the song 'Here With Me' performed by Dido and written by D Armstrong/P Statham/P Gabriel and are copyrighted to BMG Entertainment. _

_**Author's Note; 16**__**th**__** June 2008**__ – So much for putting up all the fics in reverse chronological order :-P Remember, edits may not quite appear as you remember them, as I'm hashing together the beta and the original uploads. I do not plan to come back and amend this work (if I start picking holes in it, I'll never stop XD)._

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_**You Never Miss the Water 'Til the Well Runs Dry**_

This is it.

This is what's left of my world.

And it's not much.

Really, I guess I've gone full circle- I'm back at the beginning.

With a whole lot of lessons I didn't want to learn.

I accept you had to look after yourself far too much. You shouldn't have had to. After all, that's what I'm _for, _right?

What kind of father was I, anyway? I was never there for you. You looked after me more than I did you. You were the one who asked how my day went, you were the one who took care of the everyday things.

I remember, I was at work when they told me. I'd just had a bad time getting into work through the amount of traffic on the road that morning. My mood was sour.

"Masaharu! The hospital called."

"What for?" At first, the obvious didn't even enter my head. I thought it was a story. She approached me as I took off my coat and flung it over the back of my chair. I looked at my desk. More junk and paperwork. As usual.

"No, Masaharu. The _hospital _called." I was alerted by the tone of her voice.

"What?" I looked at her. I could feel suspicion growing in the pit of my stomach.

"One of your boys has been taken there. They wouldn't tell me-"

I grabbed my coat again and raced away. I turned for a moment, yanking the coat on, and yelled,

"Which one?!"

"Um…Odaiba General, I think-"

"_No! Which son!?_"

* * *

"I want to see my son, now."

"Can you tell me his name, sir?" The woman at the desk looked nervous.

"Yamato Ishida."

"And your name?"

"Masaharu Ishida."

"Let me check who he's with." The woman tapped into a computer for a few moments. They were moments I spent moving from foot to foot nervously. Nobody would tell me anything. Nobody would tell me what had happened to you.

"He's with Dr Ishihara, but he's still in surgery."

"Surgery? But you can't…You can't operate without my permission. And what do you mean, 'surgery'? Won't anybody tell me what's going on?" I could hear my voice rising in a combination of anger and panic.

"Sir, please calm down. I'll page somebody to come down to you and explain."

"_Do _that." I replied, running my fingers through my hair.

Some minutes later, a tall, middle-aged and balding gentleman walked towards me. I stood, and he bowed slightly.

"Mr Ishida?"

"Yes. Where's my son?"

"Come with me."

I let the man lead me through the maze of the hospital grounds. I tried to take in where I was going because I knew at some point I would have to get back to the ER reception, but couldn't concentrate on anything but you.

You were sick, and I couldn't get to you. Their caginess was worrying me- I knew enough about hospitals to know that caginess was not a good sign.

The last time I had been here on a personal level was when TK had swallowed a pen lid at age three. Such an inquisitive boy, he was always putting stuff in his mouth- and of course this time it turned out to be one of _your_ pen lids, so even at such a young age, you were mortified. We didn't blame you, not for a minute, but that didn't stop you blaming yourself.

We stopped outside a door and the man turned to me,

"Please come this way."

I followed him in.

The room was lavishly decorated. A yucca plant stood in one corner. The room was covered in yellow wallpaper, with a three-piece suite adorning it in navy blue. There was an oaken coffee table in the middle of the room.

"Please sit, Mr Ishida."

"No. I'd rather stand."

"Please sit, Mr Ishida." The man repeated. All the strength suddenly went out of my legs, and I had no choice but to comply.

"My name is Dr Okaraseru. I've been assisting Dr Ishihara in the case of your son. He is currently in surgery with Dr Ishihara, as you know. I'm afraid the situation is rather bleak."

"Wha… Why? What's happened?" I felt my heart sink to my boots- and on the way down it upset my stomach enough for me to want to be sick.

"I'm afraid your son was hit by a car, Mr Ishida."

"Oh...God…" I whispered, covering my face with my hands momentarily and squinting my eyes shut. "What was he _doing_? He's been able to cross the road since he was eight!"

"Sadly, this has had some quite obvious adverse affects on his system. There have been some considerable internal injuries, some worrying internal bleeding. Our foremost concern right now though, is his brain. It seems that it may have received some extensive damage.

"Think of it like this sir-"

"Am I going to want to?"

"Possibly not.

"The brain itself is very soft. The skull is around the brain to protect it, being that it is so soft. When injury happens, the brain has room to move within the skull. The least of brain injuries is known as concussion. This, in most cases, simply displaces a person for a day or so, giving them some headaches. In your son's case, Mr Ishida, the damage is somewhat worse. He has a compression injury in the brain, caused by the force of the impact. This is where blood is actually bleeding into the surrounding brain tissue from a bruise-type injury.

"In your son's case, this is a severely life-threatening problem.

"It is possible that despite our efforts, your son will not survive the night."

I put my head in my hands.

"My God… You're telling me Yamato might die? And that if he doesn't die, he'll be permanently brain-damaged?"

"Yes. I'm afraid that is the case.

"Putting it very crudely, sir- the skull can be a protector, or it can be the brain's worst enemy. In this instance, it was like putting your son's brain in a jar and throwing it against the wall."

I recoiled at that comment. So hard that I leapt out of the chair.

"Thank you, I needed that put so graphically." I snarled. As what he had said truly sank in- especially the last part- I leapt forward and grabbed him by his throat.

"Didn't anybody ever teach you any bedside manners in here!? Didn't they!?" I shook him. The look of fear on his face was strangely rewarding, so I continued to shake him by the scruff.

"That's my son you're talking about! _My son_! You have, you have no _idea _what he means to me, you…You haven't…"

_Oh God, _I thought to myself. _Neither does he._

Slowly I stopped shaking him until I was looking him straight in the eye.

"Attacking me will not help your son, Mr Ishida." The doctor replied, his face ashen. Taking deep, supposedly cleansing breaths, I dropped the man back down into the seat he had been occupying.

"Why don't you wait in here, Mr Ishida. We'll call you when Yamato comes out of theatre."

"His name's Matt."

The man stood.

"Dr Ishihara will fetch you later, Mr Ishida." The man said coldly, and walked out.

I wanted to be angrier with him. I wanted that anger to still be there, so that I could make a big fuss about him to the bosses, but I just couldn't sustain it. I was too worried about you.

It suddenly occurred to me that I should call your mother and TK. There was a phone in the room, and on it were instructions on getting an outside line. I assumed they wouldn't mind me using it.

I dialled Mom's number and waited. And waited.

"You have reached the answering machine of Nancy and TK. We're sorry we're not available to take your call at this time, but please leave a message and we'll get back to you as soon as we can"

There was a long beep.

"Goddammit, Nancy, where are you when your son needs you?"

I slammed the phone down. Sighing, I rooted around in my pocket for TK's cell phone number. He'd given it to me some while back, but I'd never got around to putting it in my phone. My pockets were full of rubbish and I set it in piles all around the phone on the desk. Eventually, I found the piece of bedraggled and abused paper with his number on.

"Hi, this is TK. If I'm not answering my phone, I've either got my CD player on way too loud, or I'm off in another world. Heh heh. Leave a message and when I'm back I'll call."

"TK, call Dad as soon as you get this message."

I put the phone down again. Nobody was in. I was set to face this one on my own.

"Mr Ishida?" I looked up as the doctor approached me. It was a woman, about my age, and she was looking very concerned.

I stood.

"Hi, I'm Dr Ishihara, the surgeon dealing with your son."

"How did it go?" I forced myself to ask.

"The operation itself went fairly well, but your son in still in a very critical condition, sir. I need to talk with you somewhere private about it."

"Can I see him?" I asked. She paused, before saying,

"I think it best you do."

At that point, my heart reached its lowest possible point. And it was never given a chance to rise again.

* * *

My breath caught in my throat as I entered your room. At first, I couldn't see you at all- just lots of machines and tubes and blankets. As I walked closer, I realised that most of them were in _you _somewhere, doing things I wanted to know but didn't care to ask about. Your eyes were badly bruised and a tube exited your mouth.

Sitting down beside you, I had to force my own breathing. Crippled with concern, I just looked at you, talking in each and every inch of you with my eyes. There was even a tube coming out of your head. The woman doctor had warned me about a lot of the stuff I would see, and that had been one of the things she had told me would be difficult to look at. I guess I wasn't listening, or I didn't take her seriously, because I hadn't been able to prepare myself at all.

Suddenly it occurred to me that I hadn't even checked to see if my cell phone was off. In a panic I threw my pockets open in search for it. I didn't want to be a part of your death any more than my failure as a parent had already caused it. When I finally found it- the panicking didn't make it any sooner- one look reminded me that I hadn't even got around to turning it on that morning. I breathed a momentary sigh of relief. It was halted when I looked back up at you.

I remembered our conversation of that morning.

"_Dad, can you give me a lift to school this morning?"_

"_Why, you're not late, are you?"_

"_No, but I want to get in early- I said I'd help Tai with something, and you know TK takes ages to get ready_. _He's never ready when I get there!"_

"_Actually, I can't this morning, Matt. I have to be in early, too. The traffic's been murder out there these past few days and I have a meeting with the boss."_

"_Okay."_

"_You're all right with that?"_

"_Yeah. I'll get there eventually, I guess."_

"But you didn't, did you? And that makes it my fault."

The words were out before I could stop them.

As I started to repack my pockets, my hand stopped on something small and cold.

My camera.

I hesitated as I picked it up, looking at it in my hands. It was something I carried around all the time- it was the journalist in me. I had to be prepared for all things at all times. Anything could be made into a story. I looked back up at you.

I needed to do something.

_Anything_.

Helplessness was not something I did; it wasn't something I could come to terms with. Even though I knew what I was about to do wouldn't help you, it would at least take my mind off the immediate problem. Your gradually worsening state.

If…If I lost you…

Right then, it wasn't a thought I was prepared to entertain.

As I stood in the corner of the room, lining up the camera, my thoughts drifted loosely.

What was your favourite food? I knew it from six years ago, why didn't I know it now? Did I really know you at all? What was your favourite pastime? I thought I knew that- it was that damned guitar and your band. And what else? Your friends? Your brother? Did you still go into the Digiworld? I didn't know any of this stuff anymore. That was a bad sign. It said that I spent too much time apart from you- that I spent the best years of _your _life hiding myself behind my intense wall of work and stories and leads… _Did I even remember the last time I spent a whole day with you?_ No, I didn't. I _didn't _remember.

An hour or so later, I sat in the yellow room again. They had thrown me out of your room about twenty minutes previous to that. Dr Ishihara entered finally, breaking me out of more deep and uninviting thoughts. She sat down in one of the armchairs.

"Have you been able to get in contact with Matt's mother yet?"

"No, I've tried. I need to try my other son again, too."

"I really think you should." She smiled briefly. My face fell further.

"Tell me the truth. He's… He's not strong enough, is he?

"He's not going to make it."

The doctor sighed.

"We've done everything we can, Mr Ishida. But Matt is weakening by the minute."

I lowered my head.

"I'll try them again."

"Please, use the phone there in the corner." Dr Ishihara indicated the phone I had used earlier.

"Thank you." I smiled weakly.

"I'll leave you to it. Get someone in reception to page me if you have any questions." I nodded again.

As she closed the door behind her, I quickly went to the phone. I just wanted to get back to you as soon as I could. Calling your mother's home number again, I still got no reply.

"Dammit, Nancy! Matt's _dying_ here!" I threw the phone back into the cradle, only seconds afterwards realising that TK might hear the message before Nancy did.

With that thought still in my head, I rooted around for TK's number again. Digging it out first time, I dialled the unfamiliar cell number again. I waited whilst it rang.

"Come on, TK…"

"Hi, this is TK. If I'm not answering my phone, I've either got my CD player on way too loud, or I'm off in another world. Heh heh. Leave a message and when I'm back I'll call."

"Damn…" I muttered to myself whilst the message played.

"TK, you need to call me, now." I said as soon as I was given the option by the beep. I couldn't explain over the phone. He had to hear it from me, live, in person.

After all, his brother was dying. I owed him more than just a simple message.

When I finally got back to you, you looked different. It was hard to put my finger on it, but you did. Paler, and more drawn somehow. Closer to and more accepting of your impending fate.

I sat down beside you again. I wanted to reach out and touch you, but wasn't sure I was deserving of that small thing. I wanted to be able to hold you and protect you like I did when you were a tiny child.

That thought brought tears to my eyes.

My hand went again to the camera in my pocket.

More photographs. Taken with more care and precision than the other ones. Better angles. There wasn't much I could do about the lighting- it was very soft, caressing even.

When I finally ran out of film, I walked back to you, leaning over you a little. I touched your blonde hair- a throwback from my dad that both you and TK had inherited.

And I cried.

I knew that if I really and truly started to cry, I would never stop. The tears would never stop coming.

They stopped soon enough when I realised you were in respiratory difficulty. It was as if your body was trying to reject the breathing apparatus. Your face paled further by a few shades and I raced out of the room, blindly yelling for help, trying desperately to catch hold of anybody and drag them in, trying hard to do what I could to save my first- born. Panic consumed me and when they all came running, I tried hard to make them let me in, to let me stay with you when they tried to close the door in my face. You were my son, I felt like I was deserting you. I had done more silent bonding with you in the past two hours than I had done in the past seven years.

"Matt, breathe! You have to _breathe_! You have to _live_!!"

A woman tried to lead me back to the yellow room, but I was having none of it. I threw her off my arm and flung myself down by the door to your room.

I covered my ears and sobbed as she tried to speak to me.

I knew the words that would be said to me when Dr Ishihara left the room.

I knew the expression in her eyes before she looked at me.

I knew the tone in her voice before she spoke to me.

"I'm sorry, Mr Ishida."

"You're not. You're not sorry."

"We did everything we could."

"You're _not _sorry."

"I'm afraid the injuries Yamato sustained were too much of a toll on his body."

"You're _not sorry_.

"His name's _Matt_."

"I _am_ sorry, Mr Ishida."

* * *

Somehow I managed to keep breathing for the following ten minutes. Somehow I managed to get one foot in front of the other. Somehow I managed to sign paperwork. Somehow I managed not to throw up the entire contents of my body. Somebody asked me if I wanted to donate your organs. I think I nodded; having vague recollections of you once telling me you would be fine with that after watching a program on TV about it.

Somehow I managed to leave the hospital and get a cab. Somebody must have called it for me, as I don't remember doing it myself. Although I still don't remember much at all from those minutes immediately after your passing. When the driver asked me where I was going, I couldn't tell him. I had no idea.

"Where to, sir?"

"My son is dead."

"I'm sorry?"

"My son. He's dead."

The cab driver paused. There was a long silence as I put my hands in my pockets, checking that I still had my camera. I _needed_ my camera. Or at least the film that was in it. Whilst I was looking for it, I rediscovered my cell phone. I turned it on, not thinking. I didn't want to talk to anyone, would much less know what to say to them. It was just something to do. Turn the phone on and off. On and off.

"I'm sorry, sir. What was his name?" The cab driver said, eventually breaking the silence.

"_Matt_."

The cab driver nodded. Slowly he started the engine.

"Do you want to go home?" He prodded, in what thinking about it afterwards was a good deal of compassion.

"No."

"Do you want me to take you to a friend's house?"

"No."

"Do you have any family now? A wife?"

"Divorced. Ex-wife. I have-" I stopped.

"TK. I have another son. I have to pick him up from school. I have to tell him what's happened.

"I have to stay strong for TK."

"That's it, son. Stay strong for the other one." The cab driver said, as he pulled out of the hospital grounds.

Automatically I reeled off the address of TK's school.

I didn't speak to the driver at all throughout the journey and the cab driver knew better than to speak to somebody as catatonic.

Suddenly, my cell phone rang. I jumped and gazed at it in my hand. I had been in the process of switching it on and off, so whoever had called had done so at the right moment. It kept ringing and I looked blankly at the digital display. The number looked strangely familiar, though. It looked like TK's number- the one I had called twice already that day.

I answered it.

"Dad?"

It was TK's voice, I'd know it anywhere. But the word hurt, and suddenly I realised that I didn't have to decipher between my two sons using the word reserved for them- because now I only had one.

"TK?"

"Yeah, it's me. What is it?"

My head spun as I tried to think of something to say, as I tried to concentrate my brain on my surviving son.

"Where've you been?"

"M-my phone was in my bag and the signal's really bad in there- I didn't hear it ring." I could hear TK getting worked up. He'd obviously figured out something was wrong from the last two messages I'd left. I sighed and tried to think of a way to put what I had to say.

I felt stronger now. I had to be strong- Matt didn't need my strength anymore, but TK did.

"I'm coming to pick you up from school, TK."

"Why?"

He was a fast kid. He already knew it was serious. And if I knew TK, I wouldn't be able to fob him off. Didn't stop me trying, though.

"I'll tell you when I get there." My voice wobbled. I tried to keep it straight, but it was difficult. The momentary boost of strength I'd felt was quickly subsiding.

"No, why are you coming to get me, Dad? What's happened?"

"No, TK. Not over the phone."

"Dad, you have to tell me! What's happened? I _know_ something's happened…"

Oh God… He practically knew already. I couldn't keep it from him even until I got there- I knew he wouldn't go until he had beaten it out of me. I had to tell him you were gone. I had to find a way and I turned over several in my mind over several moments before deciding on:

"It's Matt."

"What's happened? What's happened to Matt?"

"He…was…hit by a car on the way to school this morning."

Suddenly I found it all spilling out. I heard TK gasp a little, his breath sounding short. I spoke before he got the chance to.

"He didn't make it."

"Didn't make what? Didn't…I can't…" I could feel him struggling to come to terms with what I was saying.

"Matt's dead, son" I pushed gently, forcing myself to say what I myself didn't want to acknowledge.

"Oh, no…no no no no…" I heard TK moan. Then the sound distorted as I heard TK screaming,

"No!! It's not _fair_!! It's _not fair_!!"

His voice suddenly seemed far away.

"_No!!_"

"TK… TK, listen to me son. Listen, please…please listen…" I could hear the sounds of sobbing in the distance, some distance away from the mouthpiece of the phone.

"Please, TK…please… Don't cry… Don't… don't cry…" Tears filled my own eyes.

When it became clear TK wasn't listening, and wasn't going to listen, I slowly turned the phone off.

All outside noises were tuned out now.

All I could hear, was the screaming of my youngest son.

That same night, I got a call from Tai's dad. Apparently, Tai wasn't taking your death too well.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Not as sorry as I am."

"Of course."

"How is Tai taking it? Does he know about Matt yet?"

"Yes, we've told him. He isn't taking it at all well, I'm afraid. In fact, I have a huge favour to ask you. I know, after all you've been through today, you don't need anybody asking you favours, but…"

"Go on."

"Is there any chance Tai could see Matt? Once more? I think it would help him come to terms with everything that's happened."

I sighed.

"I can't face going into that place again…"

"No, of course not. But if you could call ahead and just give your permission with the hospital. Just let them know it's okay with you."

"You really think it'll help him?"

"Yes." There was a brief pause. "He's not accepting Matt's death at all. He's just closed off and refuses to acknowledge it in the least. Apparently, they were going into town tonight."

"How sure are you that this will help? I mean… There's no Matt there anymore." My voice shook as I spoke to this man- this person who had no idea what I was going through, and I honestly hoped never would.

"There's no Matt anywhere anymore."

There was a pause as I tried to control myself and the other man bore with me.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No.

"Take Tai to see him. I'll call the hospital- if it helps him it's worth it. And hold on to your son. Hold on to him and his life as though there were nothing more precious in the world, because there isn't."

There was another pause.

"I will."

The next few days were a living hell of telling people you were gone and making arrangements for your funeral. I don't remember eating or sleeping at all over that period, only making phone calls and sitting in the silent front room of our apartment. I don't remember calling work to tell them, but I think somehow they got the message.

Our answer phone got more of a work out than it had ever had before. Message after message of condolence, and not one of them could bring you back. Even your friends were calling me, tearfully offering me help with the funeral or anything I needed help with.

For the first time, I realised what a strong group of friends you had and why you were always so proud of them.

"_Dad?"_

"_Hmm?"_

"_It's the first anniversary of our team's friendship today and well…we wanted to go out."_

"_Hmm."_

"_Dad?_

"…"

"_Dad, are you even listening to me?"_

White flowers and fake greenery, wooden boxes and long black cars, cold wet cemeteries and mound upon mound of black. Movements, shapes changing, people shaking my hand, false smiles and streaming eye makeup.

Your funeral was not a good day. Wet and cold, it resembled the general feel of everybody. When your brother first saw me, he buried himself in my chest, his body limp and lethargic.

"You look tired, son." I said, brushing his forehead and gazing at the rings under his eyes.

"I haven't been sleeping so well." He replied, sighing. I offered up a small smile.

"No? Me either." I looked at his face again for a moment before he buried it in my jacket.

"It'll get better after today, TK. We can start to get better." I said falsely.

"Mm-hm."

Finally, he peeled himself from my black suit and went to stand by your mother. She still hasn't forgiven me for those messages on the answering machine. And you know what? I could care less.

They'd asked me for some of your favourite songs. I didn't have a clue, so I'd asked TK. He came back with a CD and said this was it. As the service finished, and we trudged outside to the cemetery, I broke inside at the words to one of the songs:

"_Oh, I am what I am…I do what I want…But I can't hide…And I won't go…I won't sleep…I can't breathe…Until you're resting here with me…" _I saw TK mouthing the words to match it and wiping his face as we walked. He was very close to you. I don't know if either of you ever realised how close, but you were. I was blessed to have sons that got on so well, even though their parents forced them to spend so much time apart.

The reception was small and quiet. I wanted to go away and hide, like TK did, but I was supposed to be the strong male- never mind that I had just lost my eldest son. Somehow I fought my way through it.

Your friend Tai did some good things for TK, I think. I saw TK slide off to his room early in our arrival at Mom's. I didn't follow him, because I thought he might need some time alone- like I did. But Tai followed him in. After a minute or so, he emerged again and gathered all your friends- emptying the reception a fair bit- taking them in to TK. I don't know what they did for him, but when I came back to see him the next morning, he seemed a little brighter. He commented that he had slept for three hours straight that night. At the time I wasn't sure if that was a triumph or a tragedy, but he assured me it was a triumph, as his previous record since your death had only been an hour or so.

* * *

And so here I am again.

In the apartment- in the dark. I spend a lot of time in the dark now. Sunlight is too bright for these old eyes to stand. I spend a lot of time thinking about you- about what I lost that day.

I lost _everything_.

Only a second can make your world crash down around your ears.

I wish I had told you more often that I loved you.

In fact, I wish I remembered saying it at all.

I like to think of you as an angel- with the wings and everything.

And that one day I might sleep under your light and be taken to where you are.

I blame myself.

I need you to forgive me.

I need to find forgiveness.

I need to tell you I'm sorry.

I need to offer you that ride.

And to tell you that I'm sorry.

Because I forgot to tell you that I love you.

_-Fini-_

* * *

_Thank you for reading my humble story all the way through to the end :)_


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